Without You
by TAGZ90
Summary: Every time I see the show, the musical chairs in this song leave me thinking of this fic. So I finally wrote it, attempting to interpret the choreography is telling us. Please read and review, it's definately one of my better pieces.
1. Chapter 1

_**Each chapter I will try to give a small summary of what is happening onstage at the moment in question, but I might be a little off at times**_

_Roger has just left to go work upstairs, Mimi is centerstage singing, Maureen is stage right on a chair, back to Joanne, at the table. Stage left is Angel, lying on a bed with a hospital sheet over it, with Collins by him, sometimes holding him sometimes standing back. Mark is on a chair in the far stage left corner._

Mimi curls up on the floor. The small bag of white powder burns into her forearm. She knows that the plastic bag is really ice cold, as her arm is, as her mind is, as her heart is. The cold has her rocking back and forth on the floor, waiting for warmth to return. No, she realizes, she is rocking from the tears pouring down her face. Waiting for him to return. Which he will do, she knows, the rock god, crying but pretending not to, gasping out promises that he will be with her more, not abandon her to Benny. Benny. What a laugh. She wishes it were Benny who was pulling her away from Roger, then she would have someone to hold her and give her warmth. God she was so cold. So cold. No god. No warmth. No him.

Roger sits on the couch. He plucks at his guitar. Winces as the notes to reach his ear remind him of Mark's snores. Wait, those _are_ Mark's snores. Huh. He thinks that he should probably tell Mark that he is here. Another pluck at the guitar. Why does it seem like no noise is being emitted from the instrument? What's that faint buzz in his ear? Shit, the room…spins…no air…no thoughts…no her.

Mark lies in bed. He hears the painful notes through the paper thin walls. He knows he should go out, let Roger know that there is someone there for him who will not abandon him. Mark would never let him down. But for someone who is so afraid of abandonment, how quickly Roger leaves behind the ones he loves the most. Who _need_ him the most, Mark corrects himself, Roger would never let him say they loved each other. It would be _misconstrued_. Bastard. Mark lives because of Roger. Roger is his one link to the real world. He reminds Mark what happens when a person leaves the world. They hear nothing, they feel nothing, and they give nothing. They lie in bed. Mark thanks every god he can think of, from Allah to Elvis, that Roger found Mimi. He curses every god he can think of because she is killing him. Hanging pronoun. Killing Roger, he means. He thinks he means. A thump echoes through the room. Roger's guitar, most likely. A fender bender, Mark thinks with a smile reminiscent of a time long past.

Maureen collapses on a pile of torn up clothes. Costumes, she thinks sarcastically is what she should call them. She looks around scornfully at the remnants of her temper tantrum. Asking for attention doesn't work so well when no one is in the room. And no one will be, for a long time. She loves Joanne, really she does, more than anyone can understand. But, goddess, the pain that comes with that love, the worries that anything less than perfect will displease the beautiful, amazing, more-than-human who has stolen her heart. She knows it's stupid, that she is deliberately being less than perfect so that when she is broken again she can say why instead of knowing deep down that she is just not good enough. This way she can pretend—pretend. That's what she's good at, right? Pretend that her protests do good, pretend that she means something, pretend that if she was herself, maybe someone could love her back.

Joanne stares at nothing. Her desk is covered with papers. Disgusting. She should clean it. But that mess, it's comforting. No, no, its not. That can't be right. She likes organization. Right? Knowing where everything is, that's what makes her feel safe. But safe isn't what she wants, is it. She knows its not. She wants confusion, not knowing what the next day will bring. The thrill of trusting another person to lead her. Of leading another person, with no destination. She looks down at the laptop that has been tilted to the side because of the piles of papers underneath it. On the screen, what should be a list of responsibilities for her intern has become something very different. There are 10 items. The first: excitement. The last: I love her.

Mark lies in bed. The silence outside his room is disconcerting. But at least it lets him turn his mind to other things. It takes him a moment to realize he doesn't know what other things to turn to. For the longest time he would imagine scenarios in which Maureen had run to him crying, needing comfort because she had just broken up with Joanne. A few times his imagination had taken him to a strange picture of Joanne in Maureen's place. And beyond his imagination, in his dreams…a blush appears on Mark's face. One of the best side effects of Roger staying downstairs is that he usually doesn't have to worry about the smirks in the morning. Or the embarrassing (accidental, of course) wake up in the middle of the night. Although, having a roommate barging into the fantasy is a quick way to get rid of an…awkward friend.

Angel sits up in bed. A tired smile rests on her face. She gazes at the face across the room from her. Her hand rises to her own face, reaching for a lock of hair to twirl before she remembers the façade the hospital insisted on. Her face falls into a pout, but only for a moment. As long as her lover sits across the room from her, as long as he will always be there sitting across the room from her, she will be okay. Well, not okay, but not afraid to be un-okay. A true pout plays on her lips now. Collins has been wincing every time she says something along those lines. He knows that she is dying. Angel suppresses a shudder—not at the thought, but at the absence of feeling that accompanies the thought nowadays. He knows she is dying. Why doesn't he accept it? Angel knows that Collins is scared, but that fear is leaking into their time together. She only has so much time left, and she wants to spend it with her lover, not the fear that has been coming between them.

Collins dreams. Not in his sleep, this is dreaming that he has forced upon himself. He imagines what life will be like when Angel is gone. The picture nearly brings him to tears right then and there. Next he imagines her still here, but not. The way she is going. So far, she has been staying upbeat, staying herself, but every so often she melts. He doesn't know how else to describe it. She melts away, and all that is left is a shell that doesn't recognize him, doesn't hear him. At those times, he simply runs. He stays away for days, and when he returns the hurt on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. It also scares him. Terrifies him. Because in a few months, weeks if he stops kidding himself and looks at reality, that hurt will be on his face. Because she will have left him. And unlike him, she will never come back. He is shocked to realize that he is jealous. Jealous that she gets to leave first.

Mark lies in bed. He thinks about the last time he visited Angel. He knows that Angel doesn't have much time left. She's dying. And Collins is dying with her. It's incredible, really, that just one year brought his friends back to life, and that same one year killed them. Collins won't last long without Angel. Mark knows this, but doesn't know this. He knows it is true, but still pictures his movie premiere, years from now, with Collins at his side, grinning and laughing as their lives play out on the screen in front of them. And each time this picture appears in his head, even now, he still needs to take the time to edit out Angel from Collins other side. She has become a fixture in his film, and therefore in his mind. Erasing her from their future sets his heart racing. He loves her, they all do, but it's more than that; her leaving will begin the end. Collins will follow her, and Mark's life will unravel faster than his film can roll.

_Thanks for reading this, it means a lot. I have a lot of work right now, so updates will be slow, but reviews always inspire me to write more..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone reading this, hope you enjoy. Special thanks to those who reviewed last chapter!_

_Thanks to my darlingest beta, nycRENTgirl, dont know what I'd do without you_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, I wouldn't be able to deal with the drama._

_Please Read and Review, while Resting and Relaxing_

_Collins is leaning against the scaffolding, Angel is on the hospital bed, Mimi is center stage singing, Roger is leaning on the steps of the fire escape, Mark is in the downstage left corner, Maureen is on a chair stage right, Joanne is on a table stage right._

Angel is curled on the hospital bed. It cluches the sheets, desperate for purchase. A shudder runs through It's body as It realizes It is no longer a She. It is no longer a He either. Without Collins, It cannot give Itself a definition. It's doctors think It's a He, but It's visitors think It's a She. It doesn't know who to believe, but instinct tells It that Collins would break the stalemate. Collins knows he's a He, so wouldn't he know if It was too? It waits for him, sheets wrapped around white knuckles, curled in a ball so small It can feel the sores on It's face rub against those on It's knee. It waits. When Collins comes back, It'll know what It is. When Collins comes back. When—sobs wrack It's body once more.

When Mark visits Angel, he doesn't recognize her. He knows who she is, but the body on the bed doesn't look like the girl in his film. He thinks of having a before-and-after shot, but it doesn't feel right. The real Angel is the epitome of life. Now, though, Angel is silent and still, defeated. Fallen from grace, Mark decides when in a poetic mood. Except he knows she hasn't really fallen; she's been dropped.

Collins sits in the alleyway where he met Angel. He has been sitting there for two days. He can't go back to Angel this time, he can't stand seeing her. She's abandoning him. Bitch. She promised that she would be his, would take care of him, when he is cold and broke, when he is lonely. He is cold now, broke now. He has never been lonelier. She has failed at being his shelter, just as he has failed to be her moat. He can no longer protect her. He rubs his eyes roughly. She promised him one thousand sweet kisses. One thousand. What hopeful fools they were.

Mark wants to kill Collins. He knows Collins is hurting, but fuck it they're all hurting! They can all see now what is coming for each of them. Every time Mark visits Angel he sees Roger or Collins or Mimi in his—her place. Mark visits every day. Well, every other day. Fine, sometimes only once a week. But damn it, he _visits_. He tries to let Angel know that she hasn't been abandoned, but without Collins the attempt is empty. And Collins is missing his last chance to make memories with Angel, destroying Mark's last chance to capture them.

Mimi hugs her knees to her chest. She takes a deep breath, and once more attempts to sift through the confusion that is her memory. She took too big a hit last night, obviously, and everything after that is…black. She only remembers waking up that morning spread on the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park. She is scared that something may have happened to her during the night, but at the same time she is resigned to the feeling that anything that may have happened doesn't matter. The rest of the world goes on. That has been the story of her life. After she was diagnosed with HIV, she walked out of the clinic into the middle of a group of kids playing ball. The night Roger left the men at the Catscratch were the same as ever. Mimi learned long ago that in the eyes of the cosmos she is nothing. She doesn't matter. Only when Roger sings to her, tells her she is his world, does that emptiness go away. But Roger doesn't sing to her anymore. Mimi snaps out of her trance. Angel has been asleep for a while now. Mimi walks out of the hospital room. She needs a hit.

Mark sees that Mimi is too drugged up for Angel. She only visits when she is coming off a high, when she is slammed back into a depression. She subconsciously pushes Angel to help her, but only succeeds in hurting Angel. Mark sees Angel wince whenever Mimi walks in the door, because Mimi is no longer the friend she was. Mark refuses to film her now, because she has become a ghost, and Mark is scared that she won't show up on the film.

When Joanne visits Angel, they mostly sit in silence. Joanne works on her cases. She used to discuss them with Angel, provide a distraction for the poor sick girl, but recently Angel has become so lethargic that she no longer has the energy to understand the cases. So Joanne works in silence. Every so often, though, she slams her papers down and cries out that Maureen could have tried more! or that Maureen isn't worth her thoughts! or God damn it why does she love her! When those thoughts burst through her lips, Angels head shifts on the pillow and their eyes lock, the haunted pools of brown piercing Joanne's heart until the guilt makes her look away. Angel would give anything to have the freedom Joanne has, to go to Maureen and…really, just to go to Maureen. Collins. These days, Joanne walks home past Maureen's apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman. She lies in bed those nights, lost in memories until she reaches out to hold the woman who isn't there, and is jolted back to reality.

Mark sees Joanne come to see Angel, but they never talk. Visiting has become a routine for her, a job, not a chance to see Angel one more time. She smiles halfheartedly, sits in a chair, and works. Mark doesn't like to film when she is there, because the hum of his camera is so loud in the silence. He hates disturbing it, because the noise might discourage the girls from saying anything.

Maureen visits Angel as infrequently as possible, because Angel doesn't let her pretend. Angel says things like "time" and "love" and "broken heart". The lines blur, and Maureen has trouble telling who Angel is talking about. She hates having to shake Angel and say "I'm Maureen, I can't understand you" when Angel falls into Spanish and tells her Mimichica about "tiempo", "amor", y "la corazon que rompe". She hates reminding Angel that she and Joanne are no longer together. She hates that she can't just let Angel think that they are together, because when Angel is lucid she yells at Maureen for pretending. She hates when Angel tells her that Joanne wont be Mark, wont always be there, and that eventually Joanne will be gone for good. Most of all she hates that Angel has become so cynical about love, telling her that she could lose it for good. If Angel has no hope, how can Maureen?

Mark sees Maureen visit Angel, her voice is so loud and fake that he is scared to add his camera's hum to the noise. And he is scared, when Angel does reply, to drown out her voice. Those few precious words are so rare now, that he doesn't want to miss them.

Roger is floating. He is never anywhere, he is always in between. He is never at Mimi's, but never makes it to Mark's. He is never awake, but never asleep, only somewhere barely conscious with a stray note occasionally passing through his head. His thoughts are no longer words, just notes and musical phrases. A song, but not a glorious one. If he could clear his head of all this baggage, maybe it would be a song worth hearing. But the notes about Mimi are dark, confused. The notes about Mark are reminiscent. Maureen, Joanne, Collins, Angel, the notes all blend in discordance, none of the longed for harmony. The notes might also be messy because of the film over his mind; Roger's world has become unclear and confusing. Roger thinks he might need to go to a hospital soon to get checked out. That's why he doesn't visit Angel, because the doctors might notice him. And if they notice, it will be real, and Roger will turn into a wraith like Angel. He doesn't want to be a wraith….

Mark hasn't seen Roger visiting. He is angry that Roger is being a coward. He thinks Roger is selfish, putting his own fear ahead of Angel's happiness. Yes, it'll be hard for Roger to see Angel and know that he will be in the same place soon, but right now it's not about Roger. It's about Angel. And because Roger is so ghostlike, one minute there and the next gone, Mark has no chance to film him. Which Mark decides doesn't matter, because Roger no longer inspires him.


End file.
